


Work of Art

by Toomanyfandoms99



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artist Steve Rogers, Avengers Family, Avengers Movie Night, Avengers Tower, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Italian Tony Stark, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), SHIELD, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 04:39:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18113468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Back in the twentieth century, all Steve wanted was to not be sick and go to art school.Now, Steve wanted more than he had a right to seek out, or ask for, or get.





	Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> Italian phrases were taken from Google. Translations are fairly straightforward. I also know “Bella Notte” wasn’t a song until after World War II, but please go along with it. Enjoy!

Steve thought about what could have been often.

He thought about what his life would have been like if there was never a war. He thought about what would have happened if his dad never left and his mother never died. He thought about what would become of him if it had not been for meeting Bucky as a childhood, and being his best friend. He thought about his life if he never became Captain America, if he never met Peggy, if he never volunteered to join the army, if he hadn’t been on that plane to begin with before it crashed into the ice, if he hadn’t been discovered in the twenty-first century.

But in the end, he was okay that this all happened to him. He could almost say he was glad of it.

If he had never gone to war, he wouldn’t have met the Avengers. If he had never taken the only viable dose of supersoldier serum, he wouldn’t have been able to save New York City in the present future he was learning about.

And if he had never taken the steps he needed to get to the twenty-first century, Steve Rogers would have never met Tony Stark.

Back in the twentieth century, all Steve wanted was to not be sick and go to art school.

Now, Steve wanted more than he had a right to seek out, or ask for, or get.

Steve started out by casing the land, taking his motorcycle around America for weeks after the Battle of New York. He saw a piece of every state, even going to tourist traps in disguise. He stayed in motel rooms provided by SHIELD and spent his days seeing how the country has changed.

Then, he needed a place to stay. He didn’t like the Brooklyn apartment given to him. Even childhood memories of Brooklyn, walking the same streets, did nothing to ease Steve’s pain. It made it worse, actually.

So Nick Fury strong armed Tony into making his skyscraper an Avengers headquarters. Steve couldn’t understand at first why Tony was so resistant; he was rich and had more than enough space. 

But after several weeks of barely hearing anything from Tony besides two square meals a day, Steve got very curious.

By this point, Steve had been more than happy to give Tony all the space he wanted. This was his house. The Avengers were all intruding. Clint popping out of vents, Natasha sharpening knives anywhere she pleased, Thor bellowing through windows with Mjolnir and breaking things, and Bruce blowing up the lab almost daily could get pretty tiring. Meanwhile, Steve kept to himself, accessing JARVIS — whose presence he still wasn’t used to — and reading up on history he missed. Natasha and Bruce were also incredibly helpful if he had questions or wanted movie recommendations. 

If Steve wasn’t doing that, he was taking online art classes under a fake name. Clint set it all up for him, teaching him the ways of online schooling within the hour. Then, Steve gladly went on his own path and sent in the assignments required of him. Steve sketched and painted to his heart’s content, doing everything from the New York skyline to purposefully-messy portraits of his teammates in their natural habitats.

Anyway, he was getting off track.

When Tony’s tiptoeing behavior reached week seven, though, Steve got curious. He knew that Tony recently split up with his girlfriend Pepper, and it had been amicable, but it made Steve a tiny bit worried. What if Tony was drinking himself into exhaustion? What if he had alcohol poisoning? What if he was working until he passed out on the floor of his secret lab?

Steve may not have gotten on the right foot with Tony, but that didn’t mean he was heartless.

Steve had been trying to fix that, by the way. He studied Tony’s basic habits — whenever he decided to grace the Avengers with his presence — and copied them by week three. Steve would have Tony’s coffee ready for him by the time he stumbled into the kitchen at some ungodly hour — he had problems sleeping, too. He would have eggs scrambling in a pan and toast ready to pop. Since Tony was always half-dead anyway, he only mentioned it by blinking at Steve or nodding in recognition.

So Tony couldn’t say Steve wasn’t trying to correct his behavior and mend a relationship. Steve felt like he should do more, though.

He decided to follow Tony to his lab downstairs. The glass door was left unlocked, so Steve took his chances at entering uninvited.

Tony was speaking rapid gobbledegook at his robots, immersed in tweaking his Iron Man suit. Since Steve couldn’t understand the complicated jargon, his mind automatically filtered it out.

Steve made himself known by standing in the middle of the lab, looking at the vast expanse of holographic screens and cutting-edge technology.

He will never get used to the twenty-first century, no matter how much he’d learned over the past months.

“Cap,” Tony said in a clipped tone.

Steve batted his eyelashes a single time, taking in the various screens. Each one was like a tab on a computer, opened to something different. The amount of projects that Tony was working on at the same time was impressive.

Tony stepped down from a stool, where he was removing a shard of metal from his armor chest plate. He plucked it out after a forceful tug, setting it beside two more on his workspace. They must have been from that run-in with Doctor Doom the other day.

Despite the loose relationships the Avengers had off the field, they were always a perfect team on the field.

“Hello?” Tony waved a hand. “Cap? Did you just have a mini stroke?”

Steve turned to Tony’s confused expression and shook his head, a half-smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “I’m just...still getting used to things.”

“Oh.” Tony wore a remorseful mask, ducking his head slightly. He removed goggles from his messy hair, allowing them to hang over his black undershirt. Steve chose not to glance at the glowing blue arc reactor on his chest, instead choosing to observe the streaks of grease and oil on his cheekbones. “Did you...need any help?”

“Everyone’s been a real big help,” Steve said.

Tony frowned. “Okay. Um.” He tapped on his desk absentmindedly, leaning on it for support. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“I was...wondering if you were okay.” Steve winced, realizing how ridiculously stupid that sounded. He glanced at his feet, at the tile floor with a scuff mark on it. “You are.” Steve fought a blush from rising to his cheeks, clearing his throat. “You’re clearly busy, so I’ll,” Steve moved his head to the side, “leave you be.”

Steve exited the lab with a small shrug, his hands in his jean pockets.

Tony didn’t stop him.

————

That night, the Avengers minus Tony were gathered in the common room. A flat screen television — almost the length and height of a genuine movie screen — played a movie chosen by Clint.

It was a game the five of them played. Since Thor was in the same boat as Steve in regards to popular culture, movie nights became a nightly occurrence — unless someone decided to destroy New York that night. Natasha, Clint, and Bruce each took a turn showing Steve and Thor movies they liked. Tonight was Clint’s turn, and he chose to play “Ocean’s Eleven.”

While Bruce tended to show him “Star Wars” and science fiction films of the like, and while Natasha chose a mixture of biopics and epics, Clint’s various tastes made up for notable genre gaps. Heist movies were one such gap, and although Steve normally didn’t go for this type of stuff, he found himself thoroughly enjoying the film.

During the Las Vegas robbery sequence, a popcorn fight broke out, which none of them took seriously. Even Thor, who could knock Steve out in a few minutes flat and was notorious for being a rough fighter, harmlessly tossed kernels at whoever threw one at him. Steve found himself laughing as he watched the famous scene, truly laughing for the first time in forever.

That was when Tony materialized from behind a doorway, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed at the sight.

Natasha had the sharpest senses out of every member on the team, so her sudden head tilt snapped up Steve’s attention.

Steve followed the gaze, followed by Clint, Thor, and finally Bruce.

Shocked still, Tony’s rigid posture loosened up. Looking a bit like a startled cat, he took in the image before him and mumbled, “sorry, I should go.”

Steve recognized the look on Tony’s face. It was the look of an outsider, someone from the outside peering in.

Before he could truly comprehend his words, Steve said, “you can join us.”

Tony halted, his feet spin paused halfway through. He looked at Steve like a mouse caught in a trap, eyes wide and hesitant.

Tony had nice eyes…

Tony ran a hand through his wild hair, the opposite hand clenching in a nervous tick.

“It’s your building,” Steve chose to add in a casual manner, shrugging for good measure.

He realized suddenly how quiet the room had gotten, the movie having been paused verbally by Clint sometime after Tony entered. The air was sucked out for a beat as Tony shuffled from foot to foot.

Tony decided to walk into the common room completely, his sweatpants ratty and his black tee creased and wrinkled from too many wears. Steve shot a look to the team, all of them smoothing out their surprised expressions and wearing neutral masks.

Tony glanced at the screen and said, “JARVIS told me you’re at the best part of Ocean’s.”

Clint’s grin eased the tension. “Yeah, man! See, Steve-o? He gets it.”

Tony took a tentative seat on the ground beside Thor and Natasha. Clint played the movie, and Steve turned back around.

He pretended that his neck didn’t feel hot from Tony’s gaze behind him.

————

Steve drew portraits of the team constantly.

He drew Natasha’s hair in the perfect shade of fire red. He drew Bruce when he bent over in concentration during his many experiments — Steve found that asking him about science things made Steve even more perplexed. He drew Clint on the few occasions he found the man at rest, not jittery and full of energy. He drew Thor’s face when he full belly laughed with a force that could shake Avengers Tower to its foundations.

But he couldn’t draw Tony. 

The others were competent and patient about allowing Steve to observe and work on his online class assignments. They went about their business as usual.

Tony, though, was a wild card. He was a busy man. He ran a billion-dollar company — well, Pepper did — and was constantly inventing new technology. His mind never seemed to stop. That fact was what made Steve misjudge him in the first place. He misunderstood Tony’s intentions and the way his mind worked.

Steve decided to correct his error, at long last, by apologizing directly.

The way Tony reacted was not what he expected.

Tony waved a hand and made a ‘psh’ sound. “It’s fine, Cap. Wow. I can’t believe we’re still,” he snorted, “stuck on that. I get it.” He waved his palm like a seal flapped its arms, going about the business of fixing Dum-E’s arm wires. “I’m used to it. Way used to it.”

Steve frowned at his nonchalance. “I...that...I’m still sorry. You don’t...deserve that.” The tail end of his sentence fell flat, and Steve nearly slapped himself in frustration. He let it sit, though, choosing not to elaborate further.

Tony blinked up at Steve as he glanced down. 

Tony looked more puzzled than ever. Steve had been seeing more and more of that, lately.

Steve cleared his throat and said, “I’ll let you get on with it.” 

He ducked his head and left the lab, sensing Tony’s gaze on him the entire way.

————

More weeks and missions passed before Steve started to feel comfortable with Tony.

Ever since movie night, Tony had spent more time with the team. When he wasn’t absorbed in his work or at Stark Industries, he threw in his own movie recommendations for Steve and Thor. Tony and Clint got along well, as they had similar tastes in regards to movies. Tony was great friends with Bruce and Natasha and Thor, too.

Despite accepting his apology, Tony only spoke with Steve directly if Steve himself sought Tony out in his lab.

It was really deterring Steve from what he wanted to do. And what he wanted to do would have gotten him imprisoned in his own time period.

Good thing he was in the twenty-first century. 

Steve knew he was accepted here, even if no one communicated the words out loud. Steve knew it as readily as he knew the sky was blue.

But making a move on Tony? That proved to be impossible as their relationship stood today.

That’s what made Steve set plans into motion.

————

Pepper’s office was neat, white, and crisp.

Steve knew offices couldn’t be crisp like clothing, but he couldn’t find another adequate word to describe it.

Pepper took one look at Steve and grinned manically. “So that’s why you’re here.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “How could you possibly know why I’m here if we’ve never met?”

“Oh, right.” Pepper held out a manicured hand, Steve shaking it lightly. “Pepper Potts. Tony’s CEO.” She slipped her hand away, her smile remaining. “Now that we’ve met, I know why you’re here.”

“Enlighten me, ma’am,” Steve said.

“You,” Pepper leaned forward, putting on a gossiping tone, “have a crush on Tony.”

Steve’s cheek went hot. “That’s not...exactly why I’m here, ma’am.”

“Yes, we can be friends,” Pepper said automatically.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t have powers that would be beneficial to the team, ma’am?”

Pepper laughed, a soft birdlike sound, her strawberry blonde hair swinging in its ponytail. “I can’t read minds, but you’re quite easy to figure out. So was Tony.” She added flippantly, “we’re just friends, by the way. We never worked as a couple, and I know for a fact that Tony’s interested.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Pepper waved a hand casually, bending her wrist. “Oh, sure. It’s no secret that he’s bisexual. You, on the other hand,” she observed his perplexed expression, “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Steve said sardonically.

Pepper hummed in agreement. Her red-painted lips curved into a half-smile. “I think we’ll get along quite well.”

————

Pepper told Natasha everything.

Steve knew the moment Natasha chose “Magic Mike” as her movie.

Since Tony was absent that night — he was at a Los Angeles conference — Natasha chose to pounce.

As Clint and Bruce grumbled in the negative, Natasha turned sharply towards Steve and smiled mischievously.

Steve blinked and said, “America,” as if that explained everything.

Natasha looked off to the side and shrugged, accepting it with a small nod.

————

Steve, Pepper, and Natasha formed a clique of sorts in the weeks to come.

Since Pepper came to Avengers Tower on Saturdays anyway — to speak with Tony about Stark Industries and to take Natasha to brunch — Steve was invited along to a pancake house. The three of them received looks — Steve especially — but they chose not to let it bother them. Pepper got them a corner table to minimize encounters with anyone besides the waiters.

Steve couldn’t help signing an autograph for a young girl there with her mother, though.

Steve was well into his fifth pancake and Pepper on her third mimosa when she asked, “are you ever going to do anything about Tony?”

Natasha looked between the two blondes and smirked.

Steve replied casually, “he’s confusing me, so I don’t know.”

“Men,” Pepper explained. 

Natasha nodded along in agreement, primly cutting her French toast into perfect isosceles triangles.

“I mean,” Steve felt like a bored housewife, but he continued on, “he barely left his lab for weeks, and now that he’s with us more, he only speaks with me directly if I go down to his lab.” He made a motion with his fork before stabbing a dilapidated piece. “What should I make of that?”

“Don’t forget the looks,” Natasha said, emphasizing the vowels of the last word.

Pepper’s high ponytail swung as she looked between the two teammates. Her eyes sparkled with interest. “What looks?”

Natasha smirked impishly and sipped a mimosa. She glanced over at Steve pointedly. “Why don’t you tell her, Stevie?”

“Uh,” Steve’s shoulders drooped, “he always looks surprised to see me there, and his eyes go wide.”

Pepper matched Natasha’s smirk, her soft pink lipstick prominent against pale skin and freckles. “Oh, honey. He’s definitely interested.”

“When I was studying Tony for my undercover mission,” Natasha said, “I looked at his mannerisms on camera. Whenever he wants someone, you could clearly see his eyes widen.”

“There you go,” Pepper said, draining her glass. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing, Steve. You’ve already got him on the hook.”

————

Natasha tossed Steve on the mat for the fifth time that hour, her thighs perched on his stomach.

Clint clapped from the stands off to the side of the training room. “Go for lucky number seven, Nat!”

Natasha crouched and allowed Steve to sit up. Steve saw Clint mark their tally on a white board. Steve had three takedowns, Natasha had five.

“TRY HARDER, STEVE OF ROGERS!” Thor bellowed from behind Clint, a large amused grin on his face.

“Shouldn’t you be raising hell in one of the nine realms?” Bruce asked meekly from the corner, where he was nursing a headache and a gigantic mug of green tea.

“I AM ON VACATION, BRUCE OF BANNER,” Thor replied, making Bruce wince and touch his temples.

“Okay,” Clint cut in, “round nine out of ten. Let’s go!”

Steve had barely gotten up when Natasha spryly knocked the wind out of him, sending them sprawled on the mat. Steve oof’ed as Natasha sat near his side, looking down at him amusedly. She moved a red curl from her forehead and said, “you aren’t even trying, are you, old man?”

Steve felt deeply offended by the term, a scowl marring his dazed expression. He sat up, his hands propped on the mat as leverage.

Tony decided to grace the team with his presence, striding into the training room in a pinstripe suit and maroon tie.

Steve didn’t miss how Tony’s eyes went to him first, before choosing to ask Clint, “what’s the board for?”

“Most takedowns out of ten gets to choose which takeout place is for dinner,” Clint explained. “Thor never votes, I wanted Italian like Steve, and Bruce wanted Thai like Natasha.” He shrugged. “So we fight.”

Tony blinked three times. “Uh huh. Okay. Not the strangest thing I’ve heard today.”

Thor declared, “THE FINAL ROUND BEGINS NOW!”

Natasha sent Steve a questioning look, and Steve nodded.

They both jumped to their feet, Natasha allowing Steve to charge forward. Instead of pulling a Black Widow move, she allowed Steve to gain the upper hand. Steve had her pinned so quickly that he himself almost got whiplash. Steve took the same stance as Natasha, perching near her side, one hand holding her forearm down. Natasha took the defeat.

Clint clucked his tongue. The score was six to four, in Natasha’s favor. “You’ve failed me, Steve-o.”

Steve sat crisscrossed on the mat, Natasha sitting up. “You should have picked your girlfriend’s side, then. Bruce was smart enough to do that.”

Bruce smiled meekly, scrunching his nose to fix his lowered glasses.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up at the information. 

Steve said it purposefully. He didn’t want Tony getting any ridiculous ideas about him and Natasha.

And he also wanted to know how Tony would react, which was adequately.

“No Italian for you,” Natasha glowered, picking herself up with the gracefulness of the ballerina she once was.

“Dannazione, volevo davvero parmigiana di pollo,” Steve muttered in Italian as he stepped off the mat.

Tony’s eyes grew like saucers, his body stiffening and inhaling sharply.

Steve calmed his racing heart. It was most definitely because he was working out. Yeah. Most definitely.

“Tu parli italiano?” Tony asked, the words falling from his tongue like they belonged there.

He was a native speaker. Whoa.

Steve was glad he didn’t look into Tony’s official dossier prior to meeting him. He would get to learn things about Tony such as this naturally.

Steve inclined his head in a nod. “And French. And German. And Spanish.”

Tony’s saucer eyes were awestruck full moons. He blinked as if remembering he had to in order for his eyes to function normally.

Steve scratched his head absentmindedly, Natasha sending him a half-smirk before walking towards Clint. She said something in Russian to Clint, but Steve didn’t catch the contents. Russian was hard.

Steve decided to tear his eyes from Tony and say to Bruce, “you can call the place. Food might take a while.”

Bruce nodded in agreement. “Should I just ask them to ship the restaurant to us?”

Clint laughed as he tossed an arm around Natasha’s shoulder.

Thor said, “HALF WILL SUFFICE, BRUCE OF BANNER.”

Steve cracked a smile at Thor, Clint needing Natasha for support during his laughing fit. Natasha rolled her eyes and threw his arm away, Clint bowling over on the mat and chuckling.

Steve snorted in place of a laugh, a fondness for his team overcoming him. He said to Bruce, “I agree with half.” He decided to ask a curious Tony, “will you be joining us?”

“Uh,” Tony opened his mouth, prepared to lie. He closed his mouth, and opened it again. “Sure. I could go for fried rice and pork.”

Bruce nodded. “Got it.”

The team dinner that night was one of best they’ve ever had.

————

Okay, Steve could safely say he was a creep.

With Tony appearing more and more frequently lately, Steve would take moments to study him. When the team wasn’t convened, Steve would go to his floor and draw Tony as he recalled him. Spend the hours in his day that he wasn’t busy remembering the shape of Tony’s jaw and the wildness of his hair and the color of his eyes.

Steve was determined to get it right. Tony was as complex of a man inwardly as he was outwardly. He proved a difficult challenge for Steve as an artist, and with his class aced, Steve had the chance to draw whatever he wished.

Steve made sure to hide his sketchbook underneath his mattress, in case someone decided to come in snooping. He couldn’t afford for this to get out. Tony would excommunicate him so fast that Steve wouldn’t be able to comprehend it.

They were finally becoming friends. Tony was starting to seek Steve out more, and Steve didn’t want to betray Tony’s trust.

————

It took another month for Tony to catch Steve and Pepper in the same room.

Steve was in Pepper’s office at Stark Industries — which was once Tony’s, so to be fair, Tony had a right to be there — when he arrived in a crisp charcoal suit and arc reactor blue tie. Tony was shocked still, as he caught Pepper and Steve mid-laugh.

Steve was glad Tony didn’t know they were just talking about him.

Tony entered his former office, glancing at Steve and Pepper perched atop the desk with whiskey glasses in their hands. Tony decided to settle on Steve and remark, “I thought Captain Good-And-Pure didn’t drink.”

Steve glanced down at the remaining sip of whiskey in his glass, a single ice cube knocking against the side. “I’m a representation of America,” he said vaguely.

Tony connected the dots, raising an eyebrow. “Fair.” 

Steve waited for Tony to say something to Pepper before throwing back the rest of the whiskey. He studied their body language; they didn’t seem like former lovers of any kind. Just friends.

Steve was the first to admit he didn’t believe Pepper when she said she was over Tony. Steve needed to see it for himself.

Now that he had, Steve could rest easy. Pepper truly was supportive of whatever was happening between Steve and Tony.

————

The way they fought beside one another sealed the deal for Steve.

If Steve ever doubted that he and Tony would be a good match, the next battle would solidify the truth. 

And the truth was that they could anticipate each other’s movements without so much as a second thought.

At some point in their monthly Doombot battle, as usual, Iron Man and Captain America wound up back-to-back. Iron Man shot his repulsors like one-two punches towards flying bots, his boots hovering a half-inch from the ground. Captain America tossed his shield like a boomerang, the angles creating haphazard triangles as they sliced through bot heads. He switched to handguns, shooting bots between the eyes that got close, than catching his wayward shield. The weight of Iron Man’s metal armor against his back was a welcome comfort, Steve glancing to the side from beneath his cowl.

Steve could have been imagining things, but he swore he saw Tony’s jaw clench and wide eyes from underneath the blue slits in his metal mask.

Steve refocused on what was ahead, firing automatically and catching his shield in midair.

They returned to Avengers Tower with minimal scrapes that day.

————

Steve handed Tony his morning coffee when it happened.

Usually, Steve set the mug down on the counter by the stove and allowed Tony to slide it away with a palm grasp.

He never used the handle. It was an interesting quirk about Tony.

This morning, though, the day after the umpteenth Doombot battle, Steve didn’t get to set the mug down before Tony took it.

Tony’s fingers brushed his, then slid away after a beat.

Steve blinked down, as if convinced it didn’t happen. He looked up at Tony impishly, and saw him sipping his coffee in a careful hold.

It was nothing.

But it happened again. Again and again, for the next week. The lingering finger brush got the same eye-bat every time it happened, Steve catching Tony staring into the oil-colored coffee.

Tony was doing it on purpose, Steve was sure of it.

He allowed it to happen instead of commenting. It took a lot for the infamous Tony Stark to willingly reach out and touch someone.

Once again, Steve decided that Tony’s trust was more important than his burgeoning feelings for him.

————

...Oh, this is the night, it’s a beautiful night, and we call it bella notte…

Steve scratched away on his third sketchbook, doing an assignment for an online summer course on portraiture. Once Clint taught him how to buy things online, Steve’s first purchase was of an old record player. It was an antique, mint condition, preserved for historical context. Steve got the owner to part with it by waving around Tony’s money. The player was repeating one of Steve’s favorite songs on a loop.

...Look at the skies, they have stars in their eyes, on this lovely bella notte…

Tony decided that now was the time to barge into his personal space. Right when Steve was creating a portrait of Tony working in his lab.

Steve snapped the sketchbook shut, peering up at Tony from his bedspread.

Tony was leaning against the doorframe, staring at the record player beside Steve, in a trance. 

Steve filtered out the rest of the song as he prompted, “hey.”

Tony stuck his hands in his pockets, his shirt riding up his hip. “Hey.” He blinked over at Steve. “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“It’s fine,” Steve murmured.

“Where did you,” Tony pointed to the record player, “get this?”

Steve blushed sheepishly, taking the opportunity to hide the sketchbook underneath his pillow. “I bought it with your money. Sorry.”

Tony’s eyebrow shot up, but his lips curved into an amused smile. “Anyone else use my money for stuff like this?”

“Hm.” Steve thought. “I did see Clint with a new motorbike last week.”

Tony’s lips parted, forming into a toothy grin. “It’s fine. I don’t blame you guys one bit. Long as you don’t bankrupt me.”

“Is that even possible?”

Tony chuckled, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. “I don’t want any of you to find out, so communicate that to the team. Capiche?”

...Oh, this is the night, it’s a beautiful night, and we call it bella notte…

Steve realized the record was replayed itself once again, but he didn’t move to flick the needle away.

This prompted Tony to murmur, “my mom used to sing this to me as a lullaby.”

Steve considered the information and inclined his head. “One of the guys in my Howling Commandos could speak Italian. He would sing this when we were camped out in Germany.”

Instead of reacting the way Steve hoped, Tony inquired, “isn’t singing whilst on enemy lines incredibly dangerous?”

“Not when you’re in the middle of the forest,” Steve countered.

Tony shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it.” He nudged his head towards Steve’s pillow. “What were you doing earlier?”

“Drawing,” Steve replied blankly.

Tony blinked, his long eyelashes fluttering. “You can draw?”

Steve shrugged modestly. “Anyone can draw.”

“But can you,” Tony stepped over the threshold into Steve’s bedroom, “actually draw? Like,” he emphasized the word, “draw?”

Steve half-smiled. “I guess. I wanted to go to art school before,” his smile fell, his voice softening, “the war.”

“Like Hitler?!”

Steve couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “No. I knew it was a fool’s dream. I was too sick.”

Tony frowned. “I forget about that a lot.”

“What?”

“That your list of illnesses is probably as long as the amount of different drugs and alcohols I’ve taken.”

Steve shrugged. “I wouldn’t know much about that.”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed, his arms crossing. “You...don’t?”

“I think it’s better I don’t,” Steve said airily, leaning against his headboard. “Based on your reaction, you must think that’s good too.”

Tony worried his lip. Steve wanted to kiss away the uncertainty. He settled on tipping back the needle, the record coming to a scratching stop.

Tony murmured, “you should look me up. You deserve to know if...if.”

The way Tony cut himself off was meant to imply one thing, but confirm another.

Steve didn’t miss it. But he made it seem like he did. “If you say so.”

Tony shifted from foot to foot. “You’re not at all what my father made you out to be.”

Steve didn’t miss the way Tony’s tone was clipped at the word ‘father.’ Steve knew that the Howard that was his friend was not the Howard that raised Tony. While Steve once respected Howard, it was clear that Howard didn’t deserve it for what he did to Tony, the man that Steve had come to care deeply for over the past months.

Steve said carefully, “that’s what legends are for. When have you ever met someone who’s lived up to the legend?”

Tony’s smile lit up his features. He said bashfully, “you come pretty close, actually.”

Steve’s eyebrow shot up, and Tony glanced down at his socked feet.

Tony cleared his throat, his cheeks tinged pink. He murmured through his eyelashes, “Clint and Thor are set to do Best of Ten in a little bit. Thor actually voted for Indian, and Bruce backed him up. Clint and Natasha want Chinese, so,” he shrugged, “they decided to fight before you or I could vote.”

Steve batted his eyelashes, throwing his legs over the mattress, standing up in his sweatpants and tee. He and Tony were only a few short paces away, but Steve halted where he was. “Out of curiosity,” Steve asked, “which would you want?”

“Indian,” Tony mumbled. “What about you?”

Steve grinned, and chose not to regard Tony’s soft expression at the sight. “Chinese.”

“In that case,” Tony smiled coyly, “looks like they made the right call.”

Steve nudged his head towards the door. “I should get down there before they break anything.”

“That would be in my best interest,” Tony agreed, sidestepping and allowing Steve to lead the way.

Steve was thankful Tony didn’t see the sketchbook.

————

As Tony grinned gleefully at his Indian food, Steve couldn’t even be mad that his side lost.

————

After the dozenth early morning finger brush, Tony decided to address Steve head on. “Are you and Pep friends?”

Steve lowered the stove burner as his eggs sizzled on the pan. Steve regarded Tony peering up from his coffee mug as he took his first sip. “We are. More importantly,” Steve furrowed his eyebrows, “how are you coherent right now? It’s dawn.”

“An engineer’s brain never stops,” Tony offered.

“Are you sure?”

Tony snorted as he took another sip. He held his mug with two hands, disregarding the handle. “You and Pep are friends. How did that happen?”

“We spoke to one another like regular human beings do.” Steve glanced at his eggs, breaking them apart with a fork half-heartedly. “Why do you ask?”

“Are you...interested in her?”

Steve wanted to take the pan handle and smack Tony upside the head with it.

He blinked, slowly and dangerously. The same blink he did right before he bashed heads into walls.

Steve turned around and wore the most incredulous expression he could muster. “What makes you think it’s Pepper I’m interested in?”

The silence was so deafening that Steve thought Tony’s cogs stopped whirring, his body still as a statue.

Tony’s fingers jerked awake, remembering how to function. “Natasha?”

Steve wanted to take a spatula and smack Tony with it.

“Natasha’s dating Clint,” Steve said, enunciating every syllable slowly.

Tony’s eyes widened. “Me?”

Steve turned off the stove burners and slopped scrambled eggs on a plate. He poked his fork into the yolk left over and leaned against the counter. He answered casually, “is there another Tony Stark on Earth?”

Tony set down his coffee mug carefully, his hand shaking as he lowered the ceramic beside Steve. He blinked, as if computing it all, then leaned on the opposite counter across from Steve.

Tony’s expression was incredibly pensive and hesitant. “I didn’t think you were…”

Steve filled in the blank. “Bisexual?”

Tony’s mouth fell open. “I’m in one of my dreams. Yes. That’s right. I’m dreaming. Uh huh.”

Steve snorted, cutting apart his eggs with his fork absentmindedly. “I’m a representation of America,” Steve repeated pointedly, digging into his breakfast.

Tony remembered to pick his jaw up off the kitchen tile. His teeth clattered together as he closed his mouth. “Um.”

Steve set down his half-consumed plate. “Um. That’s all you’ve got?” He teased, “for someone who likes to babble, I expected more.”

Tony smiled sheepishly. He murmured softly, “you’re my dream guy. You know that?”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew my secret.”

“Secret?” Tony’s expression came alive like a child’s. “Tell me.”

“I’ll show you.”

————

Steve thinks he broke Anthony Edward Stark.

But since he was already here, and he already felt bold, shameless, completely loopy from the early hour, it couldn’t be undone.

Tony flipped through the sketchbook Steve had dedicated to him. His expression was unreadable.

Steve wandered about his bedroom, tidying up his random baubles and fiddling with drawer handles to pass the minutes.

When the final page was flipped, and the sketchbook closed, Steve turned around hesitantly.

Tony was close, very close, a soft smile framing his face. He murmured quietly, “you’re certainly the best stalker I’ve ever had.”

Steve frowned.

Tony tried another tactic, reaching out tentatively. He placed his hand on Steve’s cheek, warm to the touch. He whispered, “they’re amazing. Every single one. I want to hang them up everywhere.”

“Please don’t.”

“Maybe my lab, then.” Tony worried his bottom lip, drawing Steve’s attention to them. A soft laugh blew a puff of air onto Steve’s cheek as Tony tilted his head up. “You really should pursue art school.”

Steve smirked. “I’ve been taking online classes since I moved in.”

Tony blinked three times. “I want to know what your lips taste like.”

“Eggs and tea.”

Tony chuckled, his body falling into Steve’s, the two of them slotting together. Tony’s facial hair brushed Steve’s chin as Tony’s upturned eyes revealed sunshine through a dirty lens.

Steve closed the remaining gap, Tony’s arms twining around his hips as their lips pressed together. Steve absolutely adored the height difference. It was perfect.

So was Tony’s laugh. So was his smile. So were his eyes. So was his hair. So was his skin.

So were his lips.

Tony pulled down, breaking them apart as softly as a caress. His long eyelashes revealed lively brown eyes. His voice rasped, “eggs and tea never tasted so sweet.”

Steve pulled back abruptly and leaned against his dresser, throwing his head back in laughter. “Uomo sciocco,” he said in Italian. “You’re a silly man,” he translated.

“Have you seen Titanic?”

Steve raised an eyebrow at the swift topic change. “Yes.”

Tony stepped towards Steve again, slotting him against the dresser. “Paint me like one of your French girls.”

“As you wish.”

Tony gasped and grinned, bouncing on his feet. “Princess Bride. Wow. I love it.”

Steve painted Tony the very next day. Tony practically jumped with joy as he showed the entire team, proclaiming it was his boyfriend that drew it.

The shocked looks on the Avengers’ faces was all worth it to Steve.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


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